Moths by Ouida — page 289: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

; MOTHS. 986 prises, their vivacity, and their entrain, and this was no excep tion to the rest. That Prince Zouroff himself was gloomy made no cause for re- mark; he never put any curb on his temper either for society or in private life, and the world was used to his fits of moroseneas. ‘*'The Tsar sulks,” his sister would always say, with a laugh, of him, and so covered his ill-humor with a jest. Thisnightshe dia not jest: her fine instincts told her that there was a storm in the air. About eleven o’clock every one was in the white drawing- room, called so because it was hung with white silk and had white china mirrors and chandeliers. Two clever. musicians, violinist and pianist, had executed some pieces of Liszt and Schumann; they were gone, and two actors from the Folies Dra- matiques had glided in as Louis Treize personages, played a witty little revue, written for the society of the hour, and had in turn vanished. Throughout the long white room, in which the only color allowed came from banks and pyramids of rose-hued aza- leas, there was on every side arising that animated babel of polite tongues which tells a hostess that her people are well amused with her and with themselves, and that the specter of ennui is scornfully exoreised. Suddenly the doors opened, and the servants announced Correze. ‘* Quel bonheur!” cried Madame Nelaguine, and muttered to her brother, ‘‘ Say something cordial and graceful, Sergius; you can when you like.” Correze was bending low before the mistress of the house; for the first time he saw the moth and the star at her throat. « Present me to M. de Correze, Vera,” said her husband, and she did so. 3 “Towe you much, and I am happy to beable in my own house to beg you to believe in my gratitude, and to command it when you will,” said Zouroff, with courtesy and the admirable -manner which he could assume with suavity and dignity when he chose. ‘¢T was more weatherwise than a fisherman, monsieur; that. is all the credit I can claim,” said Correze, lightly and coldly. Every one had ceased their conversation, men had lost their ta- terest in women’s eyes, the very princes present grew eager, and were thrown into the shade. Correze had come—Correze, with the light on his poetic face, his grace of attitude, his sweet, far- reaching voice, his past of conquest, his present of victory, hxs halo of fame, his sorcery of indifference. Correze stood by the side of his hostess, and there was a gleam of challenge in his eyes, usually so dreamy, this night so lumin- ous; he was as pale as she. ‘‘T came to sing some songs to mesdames your sister and your wife,” said Correze, a little abruptly to Zouroff. ‘‘Is that your piano? You will permit me?” | He moved to it quickly. ‘‘ He knows why he is asked to come,” thought Zouroff, ‘’ but EOmICcbCc oO S (ele)